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by avid_author_activist



Series: Ranger's Apprentice Drabbles [1]
Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, cralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 05:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20325574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avid_author_activist/pseuds/avid_author_activist
Summary: Halt attends a debriefing session with his Commandant after the events of A Battle For Skandia (Oakleaf Bearers).





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a drabble requested by @/rangerthursday11 for the following prompt: "Stop looking at me like that; it's your fault anyway."

The sheaf of papers shifted closer to the edge of the cabinet. Crowley desperately attempted to stop the impending avalanche by bracing his hands against the paper, rising to the tips of his toes. He wobbled, losing his balance, and the paperwork slid off the cabinet and landed with an audible _thud_ on his head before cascading to the ground. Cursing, Crowley bent over to retrieve them.

The door to his office opened, admitting a slight figure wrapped in a green and gray cloak. The movement was too much for another column of papers, and it teetered slowly before crashing to the ground all at once, sending scrolls flying every which way. Crowley groaned and slid all the way to the floor, shutting his eyes tight. He was knee-deep, literally, in paperwork. 

“Having trouble?” Crowley looked up to see the pale oval of Halt’s face. The corner of his mouth was quirked upwards. For Halt, this was the equivalent of bursting into uncontrollable laughter, a fact that did not make Crowley any more pleased about his current predicament.

He got to his feet, attempting to retain what was left of his dignity, and proceeded to hit his head on a filing cabinet. “Oww!” Crowley rubbed his forehead where it had collided with the hard wood. He glared upwards at Halt. “Yes, I’d say I was having a _spot_ of trouble,” he said pointedly. 

Halt decided to take pity on him and change the subject. “Where did all this come from?” he asked, looking around. Crowley’s office was covered in paper, reams upon reams of it: bundles of papers, letters, and scrolls. Many bore the seals of foreign dignitaries. 

“We had a little war, in case you forgot,” Crowley said. “_Someone_ has to deal with all the paperwork. Not all of us have the luxury of leaving the country for a year, you know.”

Halt clicked his tongue. “Stop looking at me like that. It’s your fault this office is such a mess anyway. Was there a particular reason you called me up here, or did you just want someone to complain to?”

“Right. Yes. Well, actually, I wanted you to debrief you about the last year before you left for Redmont,” Crowley said, moving an armful of scrolls off his chair and sitting down. “You know, just in case you’ve alienated any foreign countries and gotten us into another war. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Halt thought for a moment. “Well, to begin with, I killed a Gallican castle lord, forged the seal of King Henri, and pretended to be royalty. All with good cause, might I add.”

“To _begin with_?” Crowley spluttered.

“Did you really think I would have such an uneventful year?” he challenged. Crowley had to admit that, wherever Halt was, excitement (for lack of a better word) was sure to follow. 

“I’ve also set a castle on fire,” Halt said, almost cheerfully, “been apprehended by Skandian warriors, alienated the former Skandian Oberjarl, shared important military tactics with an enemy nation—”

“You _what_?” 

“—been pursued by a Temujai war party, twice, interfered in a foreign election, and written a peace treaty.” 

Crowley buried his head in his hands. “Lord help us all.”

“I’m sure that wasn’t the comprehensive list,” Halt supplied helpfully. “I’ll let you know when I remember more. You might also want to have someone from the Diplomatic Service check the treaty for errors, but since it’s already been ratified by both parties, I’m not sure it could be edited at this point.”

Halt was being difficult with Crowley on purpose, but after a year away from home, he felt he was entitled to some leg-pulling. That being said, the stream of words he had just produced shocked him: he didn’t remember the last time he had talked quite so much at once. It must be a by-product of all the time he was spending with Will and Horace, he thought ruefully.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning,” Crowley said carefully. “The _very_ beginning, right after you left Araluen.”

So Halt did. Crowley was quiet through the entire thing, his hazel eyes inscrutable. Halt felt a prickling sensation in his eyes at multiple places in his narrative. His hand subconsciously touched the silver oakleaf hanging at his throat, as if it needed the reassurance that the chain was still there, that he was actually back.

“You really love that boy, don’t you?” Crowley asked once he had finished. He was, of course, talking about Will.

“Of course I do,” Halt said, blinking. He took a second to compose himself, then said, “I would go to the end of the known world for him.”

“Mind you, you did exactly that,” Crowley said. “Running off to Gallica and Teutlandt and Skandia. And leaving me behind to deal with the paperwork, might I add.”

Halt shrugged. “You could have come with. Would have been just like the good old days, fighting Morgarath and restoring the Corps.” 

Crowley smiled sadly. “Yeah.” 

There was something in his old friend’s eyes that he couldn’t quite place, Halt thought. Something a little... _more_ than just concern for a brother-at-arms or nostalgia for the early years. He felt his eyes moistening for the third time that night, for what could have been, and pressed his lips together in a thin line.

Halt turned away, surreptitiously wiping his eyes on a corner of his cloak. “Well,” he said, deliberately changing the subject. The past was just that: passed, and dreaming about the future accomplished nothing in the present. It didn’t bear thinking about, he told himself. 

“Some more of my memory seems to have returned,” he said, but the lightness in his voice was forced. Crowley, too worried about what Halt was about to say, didn’t notice. He only groaned, putting his head in his hands. 

“I left out the part where we lost the Princess for twenty-four hours and she was trapped aboard an enemy wolfship,” Halt said, enjoying the expression of abject horror that dawned on Crowley’s face. “And when she was sold as a slave to the Oberjarl of Skandia,” he added. The sandy-haired Ranger’s face turned the color of spoiled milk. 

Crowley opened his mouth, then shut it again. “You know,” he said finally. “I’m about to ask Duncan to extend your period of banishment. It would mean so much less paperwork for me to fill out. This is going to cause an upheaval.”

“But you won’t, because who knows what Will and I would get up to then,” Halt said. “We could cause a world war.” 

“Confound it all, I hate it when you’re right,” Crowley sighed. “I’m just glad you both are home safe.” He reached over, enveloping Halt in a warm embrace. 

Halt shut his eyes, feeling the back of his throat close up. Maybe the future was a dream, but that didn’t mean it was an impossibility. Maybe it was worthwhile to hope, to dare to imagine.

He returned the embrace, knowing for certain that he was home at last. 


End file.
